


strung together (words of a love song)

by FaiaSakura



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cellist Gally, Electric Bass Guitarist Minho, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Pining, References to canonical suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaiaSakura/pseuds/FaiaSakura
Summary: Gally glances back towards where Minho is now, having entered the room not long ago, busy setting up his bass guitar. Maybe the whole school likes Minho, but Gally’s like was of the cheesy hand holding daydreams and awkward wet dreams variety.--Or, Gally pines.





	strung together (words of a love song)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Colourspaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourspaz/gifts).



> colourspaz, I hope you like this! There's less orchestra stuff than I thought there would be, but I've included a good amount of pining. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

 

Gally ducks into the orchestra room to escape the cold nip of the air outside. Maybe he should have worn a thicker coat. It’s the first day after winter break, but it seemed like the day would warm up. He drops his backpack in the zone away from the prearranged seats and music stands to quickly unpack his cello. As he finishes rosining his bow, a case for something decidedly not a standard orchestral string instrument catches his eye.

“Hey, Ben, what’s with the guitar?” His best friend and stand partner, setting up next to Gally, might know.

“Bass guitar, actually. Electric. It’s Minho’s.”

At Minho’s name, Gally can feel his heartbeat pitter patter just a smidge faster as a small frisson of tension sizzles through him. He says, “I didn’t even know he played bass,” in what is hopefully a calm voice.

“Dude, you were there at the Battle of the Bands a few months ago. His band – Run After Your Heart or Run Into Your Heart or something like that – did a few songs. Think they disbanded though.”

“I had to leave early for Chuck’s soccer match. Is he any good?”

His little brother, Chuck, loves soccer and he finally made it into the better youth league in their town. Gally wouldn’t have heard the end of it if he missed out. (Gally loves his little brother and would have gone regardless.)

“Uhh, I guess? They did a Panic! cover and an original. Not really my thing but the crowd seemed to like it.”

“Rock music in general isn’t your thing. Why did you even go?”

“Whatever,” Ben dodges the question. “I thought you knew he’s joining us for the bass guitar concerto we’re doing for the Spring Festival?”

“Oh. Uh, no. Great.” Shit, that last word comes out more sarcastic and bitter than Gally intended – maybe Ben won’t notice?

“What, you don’t like Minho?” Ben’s tone of disbelief carries an unspoken _but everyone likes Minho_. The two of them, both on cross country in the fall, and track in the spring, weren’t the closest of friends, but got on well. And as Ben was implying, everyone did, in fact, like Minho.

What wasn’t there to like? Minho, a star athlete and honors student – apparently, also a musician – was one of the most popular students in school. He was nearly six feet worth of warm smiles and laughing eyes, teasing sarcasm that never crossed the line, and stupid puns that somehow always managed to be funny. Just like the rest of the school, Gally likes Minho.

Gally chokes out a “that’s not it,” cheeks blushing slightly as he snags a cello score that’s being passed out. He shuffles the sheets on their stand, hoping to distract Ben, but when he looks towards his friend, Ben is wearing the smarmiest of smirks.

“So you do like him,” Ben says, with grin that spells out trouble.

Gally hisses and whacks his bow towards Ben’s face without actually hitting him. “Shut up, dude.” Gally glances back towards where Minho is now, having entered the room not long ago, busy setting up his bass guitar. Maybe the whole school likes Minho, but Gally’s _like_ was of the cheesy hand holding daydreams and awkward wet dreams variety. Gally thought Minho was cute, when he was the new guy freshman year, but it’s only recently that Gally has developed this crush. They worked on a history project at the end of last semester and Gally may have secretly enjoyed Minho talk on and on about cool tangential topics a little too much.

Ben doesn’t say anything more, but if Gally knows his best friend – and he does, because they’ve been best friends since elementary school – this isn’t the end of the conversation.

\--

Minho arrived just before the class bell rung, so there wasn’t time to mingle past a “sup, dude,” but now that rehearsal is over and it’s time for lunch, Gally is unable to escape what looks like Ben’s amateur match-making.

“Hey Minho, Gally and I were gonna go to Chipotle for lunch, wanna join?” As seniors, they all had off-campus lunch privileges. But while Ben does occasionally eat with his track buddies, Gally knows exactly why he’s inviting Minho today.

“Sure. Mind if Thomas and Newt come too?”

Gally watches as Minho snaps shut the case for his guitar with deft fingers that might have been distracting all through class today.

“The more the merrier. Right, Gally?” Ben nudges him back into the conversation.

“Yeah, whatever.” Gally wants to groan the moment those totally smooth and original – not – words leave his mouth. Damnit.

Thomas and Newt meet them at the Chipotle in the plaza down the road, holding hands in their stupidly cute, high school sweethearts way. As they get their food, they start up on the standard “what did you do over break” and “I wish the winter holiday was longer.” They snag a large booth and sit down – except Minho. Minho is still by the condiments and Gally watches as he pours a truly unnecessary amount of salsa verde onto his burrito bowl.

Gally snaps his attention back to the table when Minho joins them, tuning into Thomas describing his family’s combined Christmas and Hanukkah traditions, but not in time to dodge a raised eyebrow from Newt.

Newt has known Gally since they were rolling around in pre-K together, and they can both read each other pretty well, despite having drifted into different friend groups over the years. His eyes flit over to Minho for a moment before he raises an eyebrow at Gally, somehow managing to look perfectly absorbed in his boyfriend’s talking all the while. It obvious he knows. Gally cringes internally at the thought of someone else having figured out his crush. Shit, confessing it during the school’s morning announcements might be less obvious at the rate he’s going. Could time rewind to last month or even two hours ago, when nobody knew?

When Minho disrupts the mini panic Gally is going through by asking him about his break, Gally manages to stare blankly for only a moment before launching into a story of him and Chuck having a snowball fight and accidentally hitting the neighbor’s dog.

“Aww, poor doggo.” Minho pouts at the thought of some innocent little fluff ball having been undeservingly assaulted with frozen water crystals.

“No, poor me. It was a full-grown husky that decided the right response was shaking her fur out, knocking me over and licking my face with her sandpaper tongue.”

Minho laughs in response – clear and loud and happy, enjoying the tale of Gally’s misfortune.

“Chuck barely pulled her off me – I think they weighed the same.”

There’s a break in the laughter as Minho coos, “Aww, poor you.”

Gally sticks out his tongue in response.

\--

Somehow (read: due to the unholy and unspoken collusion between Ben and Newt), lunch becomes a thing. As does Gally showing up to track meets to support his new bosom buddies, like the one he’s at now.

The first event, the 4x100 relay, has both Minho and Thomas in it. Gally sits with Newt, who was on the track team until _the accident_ _we don’t talk about_. Now, he still attends every meet, just in the stands to cheer on his boyfriend.

Gally watches as Newt kisses Thomas, for luck, and his gaze wanders to where Minho is stretching – it’d be nice to be down there, giving Minho a kiss for luck too. But that’s an action reserved for boyfriends and they don’t have that kind of relationship. Unfortunately. He shoos the stray fantasy away as Newt joins him in the stands.

Every time he sees Newt, there’s a residual guilt that can’t be shaken from a couple years ago when Gally didn’t notice how far Newt had sunk, until that awful summer between sophomore and junior year when Newt fell, literally, off the edge. It was Minho who found Newt, while Gally didn’t even know until his mother made a comment about Newt in the hospital. They had grown apart, hadn’t even hung out at all that summer, so it wasn’t as if Gally was even around to notice something wrong. But sometimes he still thinks he should have been.

The accident was probably when Gally first started noticing Minho more, past the casual classmate camaraderie they shared in classes and being in proximity from having mutual friends. There’s a feeling of gratitude too, left unspoken from emotion that couldn’t be put into words, that Minho saved Gally’s oldest, if not closest, friend. So even though Gally is here because, well, Ben bullied him into it and Gally is a pining emotional disaster, he’s also glad to be closer to Newt again.

“You two get along well,” Gally says to Newt, nodding toward Thomas.

Thomas moved to town in time to start junior year and somehow managed to immediately disrupt their school’s dynamic. He was obstinate in classes and was even the cause of a few catfights between Teresa and Brenda – neither of whom, as far as Gally knew, were particularly prone to being boy crazy. Gally only knew Teresa in passing, but Brenda and him tended to pair up for things like school dances over the years – just as friends, except for _the time we don’t mention_. Gally hadn’t even thought that sort of overdramatic girl-fighting over boys was a real thing that could occur and not just the product of TV producers creating artificial tension until the Thomas-Teresa-Breanda debacle.

Luckily, before anything could escalate too far, Thomas declared in front of both girls, and half the class watching events unfold with unbidden interest, that he was flattered by their interest but was very much gay. It was a goddamn power move, though at the time Gally couldn’t decide if he wanted to be impressed or annoyed. Newt, who had been fast friends with Thomas, started dating him the next month and they’ve been an obnoxiously cute couple ever since.

“Thanks.”  Newt smiles, softer than he normally does. _Get along well_ is a understatement and they both know it – Minho may have saved Newt’s life, but Thomas has saved Newt. Then Newt’s lips curve into a more teasing grin and his eyes dart back down to the track. “You know who you would _get along well_ with?”

“Do. Not.” Gally does his best to level a glare that does not faze Newt one bit.

“Okay. But one of these days, I’m gonna be saying I told you so.” Newt backs off, attention returning to his boyfriend as the meet begins, and they both watch as Thomas starts off the first leg of the relay in the lead, and then as Minho wins during the final leg of the race.

The rest of the track meet goes like the initial event, with their school sweeping most of the meet. Afterwards, Gally and Newt head down to congratulate their friends. Ben is chatting with Rachel, a violinist in their orchestra that he’s been dancing around for the last few weeks in a _will they, won’t they_ manner (Gally thinks they will). Thomas only has eyes for Newt, as always, and Minho, well –

Gally gulps. Somehow, Minho’s wind-blown hair, damp from a mixture of sweat and the water bottle he upended over his head earlier, looks artfully tousled. Damn, does Gally to run his fingers through that hair or _does he want to run his fingers through that hair?_

Instead of giving into the impulse, Gally goes for what he hopes is a casual tone as he says, “Congrats dude, you were great out there.”

“Thanks, man! Cool of you to make it.” Track meets aren’t exactly the most popular event attended by students, even though their school is at the top of their state. Minho holds out a hand for a fist bump that Gally meets., then grasps his hand and pulls him in for a half hug that ends too soon.

If Gally was in charge, the conversation would now die off into awkwardness. Luckily, Minho continues with, “You joining us for the after at the arcade?” While the football and lacrosse teams did after-parties in a stereotypical drunken high school way, the track team had a tradition of hitting up the local arcade (less drunkenly, though secret booze still made an appearance). Gally hadn’t really planned on joining but finds himself agreeing, unable to resist the offer.

He ends up spending way too long (not enough) time playing DDR with Minho. For all that Gally’s rhythm and counting skills are great from playing cello, that doesn’t correspond to coordination with his lower limbs and normally he just enjoys being a sort of disaster. But after Minho lighthearted teases him for his white boy skills, he shows Gally how to move with the rhythm instead of fighting a war against it. Gally goes home that day with improved DDR skills and an even stronger crush on Minho than before.

\--

Gally finishes putting away his backpack and cello into the trunk and is about to get into his car parked in the student lot when he hears his name being called. He turns around to see Minho jogging over.

“What’s up? Don’t you have practice right now?”

“Um yeah, right, that starts soon.” Minho scratches the back of head his in a way that should look awkward but that Gally just finds endearing. “Listen, you got an A on the calc test we got back today, right?”

“Yeah…?” Gally isn’t sure where Minho’s going with this, but he’s not going to complain about Minho seeking him out.

“Well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind studying together. I’ve got limits and derivatives down, but the integrals are tripping me up. I’ve been so busy this semester with track and orchestra that even though I’m doing the homework, nothing is making much sense.”

“Oh, um, sure?” Gally finds himself agreeing despite having no qualifications in tutoring or study help whatsoever. He has good grades but wasn’t exactly a genius; math was just a necessary stepping stone to becoming a civil design engineer. It doesn’t even occur to Gally to turn down Minho’s request – he’ll take any opportunity to spend more time pining in the presence of his crush.

“Great!” Minho’s smile is criminally bright, lighting up his whole handsome face. He claps Gally on the back. “You’re the best. I gotta go now but I’ll text you.”

Minho gets the material pretty well once they figure out together the step he had been missing, but somehow they fall into a routine. And that’s how Gally ends up doing homework and studying with Minho a couple times a week, when their schedules match up.

\--

The moment should be safe – it’s just Ben and Gally working on their English project – but they’re taking a break when Ben asks, “So when are you going to ask Minho out?”

Gally sputters for a moment, nearly choking on the chip he’s chewing on. Besides the side teasing and arranging for all of them to hang out more, Ben hasn’t addressed the Minho Crush directly. Until now.

This is not a conversation Gally particularly wants to have and he deflects with, “I would rather perish.”

Ben just sighs, not even teasing him for using an outdated meme reference. “I’m being serious. You two would be great together.” The tone he uses is just strict enough that Gally knows it’s pointless to keep avoiding this.

“I don’t even know if he likes guys. Unless you’re holding out deets.” Gally raises an eyebrow, not that he’s actually fishing; it would be uncool to ask Ben to out someone.

As far as Gally knows, Minho has turned down both interested girls and guys asking him out. For all that he’s friendly and popular, no one with romantic intentions has gotten anywhere.

“Well, I don’t _know_ know, but isn’t it worth a shot? Even if he doesn’t like guys, or is just not interested, he won’t be mean about it. I really think you have a chance.”

Gally, who has been sitting on Ben’s bed with his laptop, just lets out a groan as he flops backwards. On the ceiling, there are still the sticky glow-in-the-dark stars that he and Ben put up in fourth grade, after learning about the solar system. He stares at them now, while trying to put into words the jumbled-up mess of fear and hesitation that’s been swirling around in the back of his mind for weeks now.

It’s not like Gally hasn’t dated before: that awkward month freshman year before he and Brenda mutually decided their relationship was a bromance, not a romance; a few months with Frypan before things just fizzled out. He’s also been rejected before and come out mostly unscathed: Alby, an upperclassman who was concertmaster of their orchestra last year, turned out to be firmly straight; Beth from camp had been wholly uninterested.

As he lines up his thoughts into coherence, Gally tries to pick out the sticky star constellations he knows are on the ceiling but can no longer remember the patterns for.

“I… I’ve never liked someone like this. I’m not going to say I’m _in love_ , but it’s, it’s...” Words fail again, slipping out of Gally’s grasp. There’s the Big Dipper, and there’s Orion’s Belt. When Gally finds himself admitting defeat on identifying any more constellations, he also admits, “But this time, it feels different. Stronger. Higher stakes. Do or die.”

It sounds overdramatic but his words ring true. Relentless thoughts about Minho eat up a high percentage of Gally’s waking time, to the point where he thinks it might consume him entirely. Every moment they spend together is simply fuel for the flame – this isn’t the kind of crush that will flicker out on its own.

When Gally drags his eyes over to where Ben is sitting, he finds his best friend looking at him with pensive expression.

“I know. But you and Minho get along so great, don’t you think the risk is worth it?”

“What if it fucks up our friendship?”

It’s strange, making such a close friend in the last year of high school, but Gally and Minho have found so much in common during their afternoon study sessions that have slowly morphed into part study, mostly hanging out. Their music tastes are both in punk but sufficiently different that the playlists they started exchanging hold minimal overlap. They both like video games, though Gally is more first person shooter and Minho a storyline RPG kind of guy – but after swapping games, Gally can see the appeal. And they have even started doing some bass guitar and cello duet experimentation.

“That’s part of the risk. You know that.”

“But we’re both seniors! Is there even a point? We’re graduating in a few months.”

“That’s what you and Minho have to figure out, if there ever becomes a _you and Minho_.”

“Ugh, why do you have an answer for everything?”

“Because I am the bestest, smartest, handsomest best friend you have. Now get up and finish the project with me.”

\--

When winter starts melting into spring and people start ditching sweaters and coats for tees and shorts, Gally finds himself walking into the orchestra room, taking one look at Minho already with his electric bass out, and walking right back out before anyone sees him and his dazed blushing.

Gally stands next to the door, waiting for the stupid flush that hit his entire stupid face to die down. Damn his Irish ancestors that let emotion be painted on his fair skin in bright red at the slightest stroke. Minho has swapped out his standard preppy button-down for a short-sleeved one that perfectly frames his stupidly perfect biceps and it is too early in the morning for this. Never mind that it’s almost 11 AM, Gally is not mentally prepared.

He’s being ridiculous – the standard track uniform consists of a tank top and shorts for both the boy and girl teams, and it’s not as if he doesn’t know how fit as fuck Minho is. But his brain continues to short circuit on the image of Minho, impeccably dressed in a way that shows off rock-solid forearms and biceps, holding that bitching ass bass guitar. Gally is going to scream. Or die. Or both, at the same time.

His other classmates have been giving him strange looks as they enter the door and with the class bell about to ring, Gally forces his limbs to trudge along and take him in, even though his face might as well be a neon sign spelling _dumbass with a crush_.

Impossibly, he makes it through rehearsal, practically on muscle-memory alone. Which pieces did they practice? How many times did the second violinists get called out? Was his own section of cellists doing well or poorly? Gally couldn’t say, too busy trying to keep a tamped lid on the bubbling riot of his emotions. When the lunch bell rings, he ditches Ben and Minho for once, to stop himself from doing something truly spectacularly idiotic (like giving into the urge to touch those biceps).

He instead seeks out Brenda and Frypan, who look awfully cozy eating lunch at the side of the quad, from what looks to be one of Fry’s special homemade meals. Gally misses that food – maybe he should have tried to make things with Frypan work… He’s able to snag a sushi roll from the container in front of Brenda (score!) and even dodge her attempt at snatching it back (double score!). 

She narrows her eyes in mock disdain. “Well, well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen your face at lunch.”

Ah, Brenda, direct as always. Gally gives her a sheepish grin – his lunchtime used to see more variety in who he ate with, but lately it’s been a lot of (mooning over) Minho.

Frypan, the friendlier, nicer half, asks “what’s up?” as he offers a piece of popcorn chicken. Gally gladly accepts – it’s a delicious Taiwanese-style piece of fried, basil-flavored perfection. It feels a little odd to ask for relationship help from his exes who are now dating each other (if Brenda can even be counted as an ex) but they’re solid friends who have got his back and won’t sprinkle on embellishments.

“Okay, so, say I like someone–”

Brenda interrupts before Gally can finish his thought, let alone his sentence. “Say you like Minho.”

“What, I, how do you know I like Minho?” Gally doesn’t think he’s been _that_ transparent, especially given he’s hung out with Brenda maybe once this semester.

She picks out a piece of sushi, eating it with a deliberate sort of calmness as Frypan watches this train wreck of a moment in the background, and leans in once she’s done chewing. “You just told me,” she says, smug confidence radiating out like a cat that has caught every last damned canary there is to catch.

Fucking classic; Gally just fell for the oldest trick in the book. He steamrolls through the ensuing embarrassment at playing into her hands, admitting, “Okay. I like Minho. What do I do about it?”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Well. No.” If Gally had talked to him, why would he be here?

Brenda just gives him A Look, something in between _well, go do that then_ and _why not, you idiot?_

Frypan provides a more helpful line of inquiry. “What’s stopping you?”

“I just – he’s Minho! Captain of the track team! And debate club! And a badass bass guitarist! If the school yearbook had Most Likely to Be Liked By Everyone, he would win in a landslide!”

Brenda, ever the master of artful sarcasm, spares no punches and holds no prisoners as each word drips from her mouth in measured cadence.“Okay, Mr. Honor-Roll-Top-Cellist-Early-Admittance-to-a-Fancy-Liberal-Arts-School, I see how you are so, so out of your league.”

Gally makes a garbled noise at her. “Thanks for the pep talk; real enlightening. Let me just go write a love letter and attach my résumé to it.” Why did he come here again? At least he’s poached some of their food.

“Look, Gal,” Frypan says, hoping to provide real advice, “he’s either going to say yes or no, if you ask him out. No amount of improved social standing, not that you need it, is going to sway his mind and Minho isn’t the type that seems to get wooed by superficial acts. You two are pretty good friends now, right? Either you go for it, or you continue pining in the background like one of those bodice-ripper romance book maidens with no agency.”

“Why do you and Ben both make so much sense?”

“Because we’re amazing and you are blessed to have us in your life. Now go and get yourself a real lunch instead of mooching off us.”

Gally goes, buying a cafeteria lunch that isn’t bad compared to the horror stories of Bad School Lunches but is still no comparison to the food he just ate, and he returns to Brenda and Frypan, catching up with them for the rest of the break period. They don’t talk about Minho again, though Gally does chew over the thought of actually telling him and forms half a plan by the time the bell rings.

\--

It all comes to a head during one their study sessions. Everything about the moment is aligned in harmony and calls for him to make a move already. They’re alone at Gally’s house. Minho’s laughter is dying down from a quip Gally just made. Gentle sunlight, just starting to color as it reaches the edge of the horizon, filters through the open window, catching glittering dust motes in the air, and a faint breeze carries in the fresh scent of spring flowers. He wants to bottle up this memory, a scene like out of a movie. There’s never going to be a better mood and Gally feels the wall of silence he built up crumbling in the urgency.

“Hey, um, so do you, like, maybe wanna, sometime–” But the moment he speaks, his mind seizes up. Every last jarring hesitation and filler word spills out in raucous form to match fidgety hands and a blooming redness spreading down his face. Gally pauses, taking a deep breath to recollect his thoughts. He ignores Minho’s confused expression, focusing instead on the bubbling bright feeling he floated on a moment ago. With clear focus, he says, “I like you. Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

These words are a significant improvement to the first attempt, but as that instance of clarity passes, Gally starts screeching on the inside, in disbelief that he managed to be so bold and direct. Well, it’s not like he can take it back. Instead of cringing like he wants to as quiet descends on them, Gally takes the opportunity to examine Minho.

Minho is…blinking owlishly, head tilted as he processes what was just said. Gally forces himself to keep still even as the anxiety dials up with every passing second –

Wait. Is that a blush on Minho’s face? While it should be impossible for someone to be cool and collected all the time, if Gally have to pick a contender, it would be Minho. Before Gally gets more time to contemplate this unexpected development, he gets an equally unexpected answer.

“I, yeah. I’d like that.”

Gally blurts out, “Really?” He bites his lip immediately after, sheepish over his disbelief.

“Well, yeah.” Minho squints at him, trying to uncover a puzzle, like Gally might have been joking. As if Gally could be so blasé about these things. “Did you not expect me to say yes?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Gally responds, with flailing hand gestures and awkward facial expressions. He has lost control of where things are going, if he ever had control in the first place. “I just. Like you. A lot.” He’s fairly certain he can feel his face glowing as red hot as irons on coal.

“I like you too,” Minho says, grinning in that charming manner that never fails to make Gally’s heart swoon and with a happiness Gally didn’t think he could be the reason for.

“I’m glad.” _I’m. Glad._ Someone needs to stop Gally from speaking, because wow does he sound like a dumbass. “Fuck, that’s...”

Minho laughs at Gally’s awkwardness and takes his hand.  “Hey, there’s no need to stress about it. I just said I like you, remember?”

“Okay, but since when?” Maybe Gally is just digging deeper and deeper into the land of no return but he will embrace his doom.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Minho asks, “You remember that time when Aris got bullied for wearing a skirt to school and got called a you-know-what?”

“Yeah…” Gally had only been passing by the group of underclassmen consisting of Aris and his friends, nodding hello to little Sonya who he knew from being friends with Newt, when he heard some boneheaded brute of a football player call Aris the f-word. Gally spun around on the spot even as everyone else stood quietly stunned and had picked a fight.

“You got up in that guy’s face all _what did you just say_ and _it was a rhetorical question, now apologize_. I thought he was going to shit his pants from just your expression!”

“That was – anyone would have – I didn’t even know you saw that.” The fluster fluttering through Gally feels does little to abate his nerves. Then the relevancy of that incident hits him like lightning, jolting his senses back into focus. “That was at the end of last year! Junior year! You’ve liked me all this time?”

Does this mean that Gally has been silently pining, waffling over his fear of rejection needlessly?

“Yes and no.”

Gally raises an eyebrow, a silent _please explain_. Minho wears an uncharacteristically nervous expression, head ducking down in embarrassment. The thought that Gally can induce this sort of emotion is flattering and fuzzy and concerning all wrapped into a bundle of confusion. He squeezes at the hand still holding his – warm and calloused and steady – in what he hopes is comforting encouragement.

Minho explains in halting words that he hasn’t ever liked anyone before, not really, until Gally  – there’s a moment where he waits for an exclamation of surprise or confusion but the giddiness Gally has started to feel from Minho liking him forestalls any judgmental thought – and he didn’t really know what was happening or why that was. He always found people of all genders attractive but not in a pursuing-romance way, until Gally. (Until Gally! Was it possible to explode from sheer exuberance?) Even though plenty of people have asked Minho out, he’s never been on the other end and tried to flirt, but must not have been clear enough.

“I thought you were just being friendly! You’re nice to everyone.” Maybe Minho wasn’t touchy-feely with anyone else playing DDR but the casual contact very much seemed like a bro sort of thing.

“Yeah… I guess it wasn’t very obvious.” There’s just a hint of self-deprecation Gally can hear and he is not having that.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re together now.” Is that overstepping? Minho agreed to a date, not to being boyfriends. But the delighted grin on his face keeps Gally from overthinking.

“Right.”

\--

It’s a minor miracle that Gally has managed to learn his part for the Spring Festival, given the amount of time he’s spent distracted during class by Minho, both before and after they got together. But he’s not section leader for nothing and as he goes backstage with his cello case in one hand, other hand fiddling with his tie, he feels confident all his classmates are going to kill it tonight – Minho especially, with his bass solo.

Just as he sets his case down to unpack, strong arms circle his waist from behind. Leaning into the embrace, Gally knocks his head gently to the side, against the one that’s hooked over his shoulder. He closes his eyes and breathes in Minho’s familiar scent.

“Kiss for luck?” Minho asks.

Gally opens his eyes to find warm brown ones staring right back at him, dancing mischievously in the dim lighting of backstage.

“As if you need it.”

But he turns anyway, arms returning the embrace around Minho, and kisses away the ensuing pout. Lips linger and breaths mingle as neither draw back, both still reveling in the newfound intimacy.

A sharp clap on his back breaks the moment – Ben, saying, “We’ve got a show to play. You can make out later.”

One last sweet kiss and they part, unspoken acknowledgement that they should get a move on.

There’s a lot still a lot of unknowns about where their relationship is going to go or it if will last, but what Gally knows is this: there is a show to play, they’re going to be amazing, and Minho likes him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Newt, after finding out Gally and Minho are now together, sends Gally a deadpan selfie captioned "I told you so."
> 
> I have many more random thoughts that did not make it into fic, feel free to ask about this AU.  
> \--  
> Shoutout to Ailurea for betaing!  
> Please let me know if there are any errors. Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
